


A Darker Path

by SilentKnight369



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gryffindor Neville Longbottom, Ravenclaw Luna Lovegood, Seer Luna Lovegood, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherin Hermione Granger, Slytherin Ron Weasley, dark but not evil golden trio, slytherin golden trio, the weasley family - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-05-19 02:37:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19347808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentKnight369/pseuds/SilentKnight369
Summary: My take on the golden trio being in Slytherin.I do not own Harry Potter.





	1. A Tingle of Magic

He was jealous. He didn’t like it, but he was. How could he not be when he watched his brothers get new robes or books and all he got was their leftovers just because they were older? Or how his younger sister Ginny got almost everything bought for her because she was the only girl?

 

So yes, he was jealous.

 

The reason for his current attack of the green-eyed monster was Percy. More specifically, Percy’s new owl. His father, brothers and sister had just returned from a trip to Diagon Alley, which he had not been allowed to join as he had been blamed for one of the twins pranks. He was sat at the Kitchen table when a loud screech pierced the air. He looked up as Percy placed a large cage containing an owl on the table. He thought, for a moment, that the family was getting a new owl to replace Errol who looked constantly close to keeling over. But as the rest of the family crowded around the newly dubbed Hermes and Percy’s rat Scabbers was shoved unceremoniously into his own hands he realised that this was Percy’s reward for becoming a Prefect. Of course everyone had conveniently forgotten that he was be attending Hogwarts for his first year in the midst of his brothers success.

 

Anger and jealousy surged through him making the tips of his fingers tingle as he stood to leave. He glanced back from the door, taking in the sight of a smug Percy helping their mother cook dinner. The dam in his mind broke and his hands warmed to an uncomfortable heat making the rat in his hands squeak and squirm. The fire under the pots and pans exploded outwards setting both the food and Percy’s robes on fire.

 

He snuck out of the room smothering his laughter as his father doused the flames and his mother fretted. He was later found still laughing in his room and was grounded for a month.

 

_Worth it,_ he thought glancing over at his ‘new’ rat.

 

 

She’d been minding her own business, not that it seemed to matter. The entire situation had had nothing to do with her. She had been nowhere near the other girl after all.

 

She was sat pleasantly alone reading on a bench trying to ignore the cacophony of sound emitting from the other children in the park. She hadn’t noticed the other girls approach until her book was snatched out of her hands and sent tumbling onto the muddy ground. The girl had laughed at her and skipped away to play on the swings after hitting her with a stream of insults.

 

She pushed down her pain at the hurtful words with practiced ease as she recovered her now mud soaked book from the ground. Anger pulsed beneath her now tingling skin as she watched the other girl climb higher and higher through the air. Her rage grew with each swing until her hands were shaking. The tingling reached its peak as the other girl swung her highest yet.

 

A snap. A crack. A scream.

 

Sitting as a rush of energy left her she passively observed the chaos before her. The chain on one side of the swing appeared to have snapped as the swing had reached its peak causing the girl upon it to fall painfully. She watched from the bench as the girls father picked her up and carried her out of the park and caught sight of her misshapen arm and tear streaked face. She allowed a grin before quickly smothering it as her parents approached. Once she had assured them that, yes she was fine, they made their way home.

 

Two positives came from this event; 1. Her parents didn’t force her to go to the park for several weeks to come. And 2. The other girl never bothered her again. And if she found herself randomly smiling at the thought of the girls broken arm and pained face, well, no one had to know.

 

 

He hadn’t meant for it to happen. Honest. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened in the first place.

 

He was being punished. Not an unusual occurrence by any means, except that this time his uncle was being particularly harsh. He’d been unable to finish the long list of chores that his aunt had given him this morning, this combined with his uncles already bad mood were what led to the curled up position he found himself in on the livingroom floor as his uncles fists repeatedly battered against him. He wanted to scream and cry but knew from experience that it would only cause the older man more pleasure. So he bottled up the tears that stung his eyes and screams of pain clawing at his throat till he felt a tingling beneath his fingers. He focused on the only non-painful sensation he could feel and felt it grow.

 

The strange tingling spread gradually up his arms to his chest eventually covering his entire body. He didn’t notice the now shaking house his eyes squeezed shut as tight as they were. The punch had stopped but it was too late to stop the explosion of energy after such a large build up. Glasses, windows, anything and everything glass cracked and shattered in a huge wave tat left him suddenly exhausted on the floor.

 

He peeled his eyes open to look around at the carnage he had inadvertently wrought. Broken glass lay across the room, upon every surface, and yet the area around himself was completely clear. He glanced up at his uncle who had gone rapidly from sheet shite to horrible dark purple in his fury as a stream of blood dripped steadily from the older man cheek and arms which had been punctured by several smaller pieces of glass.

 

The beating began anew before he could even open his mouth to defend himself. Once thrown, beaten and bloodied, back into his cupboard he repeatedly thought back to the event. As he passed out from blood loss and exhaustion his last thought was that he was sure he had seen a hint of fear among his uncles anger.


	2. How they came to be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own the Harry Potter series or any of its characters.

Harry Potter had only ever known violence.

 

He was sure there had been a time when he had been loved and cared for, after all he had had parents at one point. But as he couldn’t remember it he dismissed it as inconsequential.

 

He’d been on the receiving end of his Uncles violence longer than he could remember. His first ever memory was the pounding of fists on flesh and the pain and fear that struck with them. He was four and frightened.

His Aunt had come next, though not as often or as painful, a slap here, a thrown object there. He was six and resigned.

It was expected when his cousin and the neighbourhood kids began their tirade against him. He was used to the hate filled glares and anger fuelled punches thrown his way. He was seven and resentful.

 

To anyone who knew what the poor boy had gone through it would come as little surprise of what he would become. But few would ever know, and those that did would be just as broken.

 

He was eleven and had just received his Hogwarts letter from an impossibly large man on a shack in the middle of the sea. The smirk that tugged at his lips sent shivers down his relatives’ spines. Harry caught his Aunts eye as she, her husband and her son fled the room, he spotted the fear in her eyes and his smirk grew.

 

Harry Potter had only ever known violence so that is what he forged his path with.

 

Ron Weasley had never been special.

 

He had been the youngest of his sibling for all of one year. If it had stayed this way, had his parents not given birth to a baby girl, everything would have changed. But no. after the birth of the youngest and only female Weasley Ron had been forgotten. Not completely of course, but with six sibling you had to fight for attention. Except Bill was the oldest, Charlie was the kindest, Percy was the smartest, Fred and George were twins and pranksters, and Ginny was the littlest and a girl something their mother had always wanted. So what was Ron?

 

He was to quiet, to unnoticeable to stand out in such a hectic family. And by Merlin did he want to stand out. To stand above them and show them that he wasn’t useless.

 

He was three when he gained a fear of spiders and the first sliver of resentment towards his family.

He was nine when Bill graduated Hogwarts and he realised just how far his sibling shadows covers.

He was eleven when he received his own Hogwarts letter and no one caught the too wide grin that broke across his face.

He had been left behind only to be picked up by those as broken as he. The Weasleys never thought such innocent mistakes would lead where it would.

 

Ron Weasley had never been special so he pushed onwards with the intent to prove he was.

 

Hermione Granger had never felt accepted.

 

She had always told herself that she didn’t need or want their acceptance but that was a lie that fooled all but a small few. She had never been neglected by her parents, if anything the opposite was true. They would constantly hover always much to close for much to long despite their demanding work hours. She assumed this was their way of trying to understand her. What with her books and quick wit it was obvious she was different. This was just as clear to the other children she was forced to interact with and, of course, kid being kids they had decided she was at fault.

 

She couldn’t help not feeling accepted at home despite her parents’ love. It was difficult when they looked at her with confusion and uncertainty. It was obvious she would never be accepted by her classmates. Most were jealous but simply to young and stupid to realise it, others were just cruel.

 

She was five the first time her parents took away her books and sent her outside to play with the neighbouring kids. They had made fun of her and she’d ran home in tears only to later be scolded for hiding away in her room by her parents. She’d never felt so lost or alone.

She was eight when one of her classmates tripped her on her way home and kicked her book into a puddle. It was a fairly regular occurrence, but it was the first time Hermione was filled with anger instead of sadness. She didn’t cry that night and she thought that rage felt better than hurt.

She was eleven when she received a letter and a visit from a stern Scottish woman. Her mind swirled with possibilities as a sharp smile formed on her otherwise gentle features.

 

Hermione Granger had never felt accepted so she moved forward determined to make them.


End file.
